Gone Huntin': Supernatural Drabbles
by brodie-wan
Summary: Chapter 4 has been a long time coming! I listed the first five songs I hear on my local classic rock station and wrote a quick ficlet based on the title. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Drabbles of the Brothers Winchester **

Author Note: I am not halfway through Season 1 odf Supernatural. Yeah, I know I'm behind and late to the game of Winchester fan fiction. But I have arrived. My first vig fell short: 1 response. I know its back at the front of the series but I need some support. If you can see your way to leaving a response, I would be grateful. It lets me know I'm doing something even remotely right. Thanks. Please enjoy my new drabble/ficlet thread on Supernatural.

This plot bunny was from Queenofthehours back on 4/13/2007. I was mining old plot bunny sites. I hope you're still out there.

**A picture is worth…**

The Chevy Impala rumbled up to the gas pump at seemingly deserted service station 100 miles West of Lawrence Kansas. Sam stepped from the car and peered into the dirty window for sign of life. He looked back to Dean and hunched his shoulders before walking to side of structure where most restrooms might be found.

When Sam disappeared into a rust speckled door, Dean relaxed at the wheel. He saw Sam's wallet sitting on the seat next to him. He would have ignored it, but the tattered edge of what looked like a photo protruded from its innards. Sparking his curiosity, Dean opened the wallet. He pulled at the edge of the photo until it came out. Other than the exposed outer edge, the picture was pristine. The image was of the two brothers the day Sam left for Stanford. Their dad had disappeared, disappointed and hostile to Sam, but Dean would not allow his brother leave without some sort of send off. A neighbor had taken the picture, which show Sam smiling big, ready to leave hunting, Dean and their dad behind. Dean looked sullen in the picture, not angry or sad, just resigned. If Sam wanted to leave he wouldn't stop him. He still had dad…and the work. It hadn't been a happy day. When all was said and done, Dean was left standing alone on the curb, the Impala his only consolation.

Den felt a flare of the betrayal that day had spawned, but quickly shut it down. All of that was over. They were together again, even if dad was missing. He laid the picture on the dash. He took a small amount of comfort that Sam had kept this picture for so long. He hadn't completely rejected the family; at least not Dean. Sam hadn't called and rarely emailed during the Stanford years. It hurt. Even if Dean wasn't one to get all sappy about his feelings, he would have preferred Sam stay with them. But, alas, it wasn't to be. He had to go his own way.

Dean was pulled from his reverie when he heard the creak of the door and saw Sam coming back to the car. He made no effort to put the photo back in the wallet, which still sat open on the seat.

Sam opened the door, but paused before getting in when he was the picture on the dash.

"You went through my wallet?" Sam asked, perplexed more than angry or hurt.

"Cool your moral outrage," Dean replied. "I saw something sticking out of it and decided to take a look. Good to know you didn't forget us completely."

"Yeah, well, even if both of you were assholes, I don't usually hold a grudge."

Sam replaced the picture in his wallet and looked out his window.

Dean laughed derisively. "Really, now? What would you call four years of college with little to no contact with the family?"

Sam looked at Dean with tired eyes. "Didn't we have this conversation on the way to Jericho?"

"I guess," Dean replied. "Just never knew you kept a photo."

Sam's tired eyes turned skeptical. "Are you getting emo on me, Dean?"

"Shut the hell up," Dean replied through a grimace.

"Just sayin'," Sam said, grinning.

Dean lifted his hand in surrender and shifted the car into gear. They peeled out of the creepy gas station and on to the next job.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author note: It's been some time since I attempted a Supernatural drabble. But after the failure of my recent SPN on shot, I figured it was time to get back to basics. I hope you enjoy. I think I hit closer to the mark with these.**

**Drabbles of the Brothers Winchester **

**In the Storm**

"I know you heard me, Sammy," Dean groused. "Did I stutter? No."

Sam raised his hands in a conciliatory manner. "How could I have known, Dean? The online news photo showed clear ground and sunny skies."

"You're the researcher, Sam," Dean continued. "You should know."

"Yeah sure, Dean. It's my job to know that a freak snow storm is going to hit the middle of nowhere and keep us trapped in traffic for hours."

"I hate snow, Sam. I hate traffic even more," Dean complained, tapping his hand on the dashboard. "It's extra wear and tear on my Baby."

"Deal with it," Sam replied with a shrug. "By the way, you might want to embrace the snow."

"Why?" Dean asked, turning to look at Sam curiously.

"Remember how Bigfoot isn't real?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Not so for the Abominable Snowman," Sam said with a smile. "We have a credible sighting."

**Safety First**

"You brought me to North Dakota for the freakin' A.B.S.?" Dean scoffed, turning the corner from irritation to outright anger and disgust.

"If I recall correctly," Sam responded, unfettered. "'Just find us a case, Sam. I can't handle all this sitting around.'"

"And this is what you come up with when challenged?"

"Did you reload the shotguns?" Sam asked, ignoring his brother's ranting.

"Yes, Sam, I reloaded them?"

"With buckshot?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"Of course!" Dean growled, shooting a sour glare in Sam's direction. "Since when do you need to check _my_ work?"

"Just asking," Sam replied, grinning. "I hear rock salt just make the Snowman mad."

**Puzzle**

"Agents Westin and Axe, Ma'am," Dean said as he flashed the fake ID in the face of their 'credible witness', a Ms. Roberta Brennan.

"You look a little young and soft for special forces, Son," Roberta said, while taking a little too long to appraise their appearance.

Roberta, for her part, was about 5'6 and weighed 150 pounds. She wore brown overalls and a white turtleneck under a heavy black coat which hung open. Her hair was curly and grey cut fairly close to her head.

"We're FBI, Ms. Brennan," Sam gently corrected. "Not military."

"You don't look right?" she said looking puzzled. She pointed at Sam. "You might look a little like Michael Westin with a haircut, but you're partner is definitely no Sam Axe. Who are you guys?"

"Listen, Lady, we're here to investigate your sighting," Dean said, irritation evident.

Sam stepped in front of Dean. "What he means is, we heard about what you saw and we came to see it for ourselves."

"Don't patronize me, young man," Roberta shot back. "I'm no fool. You better get your college asses of my property before I go back inside for Stanley."

Dean snorted. "Who's Stanley? You're husband?"

It was Sam's turn to glare at Dean. Dean shrugged but stepped aside to appraise the house and yard.

Her face scrunched in frustration as she turned and trotted up the steps back inside the house.

**Solitude**

"Who k-knew Stanley was a long r-range hunting rifle," Sam chattered as the two brother hiked up a trail Roberta had shown them.

"You are so gonna pay for this, Sammy," Dean bit out, hugging his leather coat tighter around him. "Hiking in the snow without proper gear is almost as bad as a season in Hell."

Sam rolled his eyes, but knew Dean was right about the proper clothing for hunting in subzero temperatures. He shivered.

"This is the place," Sam said, pointing to the tree Roberta had marked. "Smart woman; marking the place where she saw it."

"It was a bear, Sam," Dean argued. "A.B.S. is a fairy tale."

"Kind of like your abs?" Sam jibed.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"What now?"

"We wait and watch for a few hours and then head back into town for proper gear."

"Are you nuts?" Dean countered. "We'll be permanent additions to forest in a few hours. We'll be mistaken for small trees."

"Maybe _I _will," Sam quipped. "Not sure about you. A stump maybe."

The brothers found a felled tree nearby and took up their vigil.

_Thirty minutes later…_

"This sucks, Sammy," said through blue lips.

"Totally," Sam agreed, brushing the gather snow from his hair. "Let's go."

**Relaxation**

An hour later, the Winchester brothers sat in a 'greasy spoon' named _Pearl's_.

"I almost forgive you, Sammy," Dean mumbled through a bite of Boysenberry pie. "This pie is perfection!"

"I'm so glad you're satisfied," Sam replied, taking a pull from his coffee cup. "Maybe now you'll quit your bitch."

"You have to admit you really screwed the pooch with this job," Dean said. "Waste of time and effort."

Sam slammed his sizable fist on the table which shook everything. "One more complaint out of you and I'll find a way to leave your ass here. And by leave your ass, I mean _steal your car_."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Sam place a hand to his ear and leaned toward Dean.: "One…more…complaint."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author note: I'm a rookie in this fandom and trying to make my way the best I can. I'd appreciate any reviews you would leave. They inspire as well as inform. I hope you enjoy . **

**Drowning**

It was the first time Sam had smiled since Dean had been pulled into Hell. It was an ironic smile; one that asked how on earth Dean, his faithless fast living brother was the one who actually kept him on the straight and narrow. Even though Dean had come and pulled him back into the life, his brother still felt responsible for Sam's innocence. He wanted Sam to be the better of the two of them.

That was funny.

What would Dean say if he saw how he was drinking? What would he think of the unnecessary risks he took when hunting? What would he do about Sam's reckless disregard for _human_ life? What would he think if he knew Sam wanted to die?

**All That I Have**

Bobby was blowing up his phone with calls and texts. When that didn't work, the old man had tracked him down and confronted him about his downward spiral. He'd even seen his friend's car outside the low rent apartment building where he was living. Bobby was never in the car, but Sam knew he was watching… and worrying.

He didn't care. He didn't care that Bobby was grieving Dean's loss as well. He didn't care that Bobby knew this great grief counselor. _Please_. He didn't care that Bobby needed his help; whether in truth or disguise.

He didn't care that Dean's voice was whispering to him: _"He's all you got left, Dude."_

**Give Up**

Sam lay spread eagle on the twin bed which protruded from the wall of his studio apartment. He was drunk. His clothes hadn't been changed in two days and he hadn't washed them in a week. Double that and you have the time it'd taken him to grow the start of a patchy beard.

It was hard to imagine his dreams being worse than what he had seen with his own two eyes, but they were. In his dreams he could see the Hell Hounds; their impossibly long teeth and razor sharp claws; their inky black fur and glowing blood red eyes. He had always assumed there were only two. But in his dreams there were more; and by the time they were done, Dean was unrecognizable.

Sometimes Sam would wake up screaming as the first hound sunk his claws into his brother. He would be soaked with sweat and panting, trying to catch his breath.

He couldn't take it anymore. He had seen Dean die in so many terrible ways. He wouldn't go through it again. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he let out a long breath…and started laughing. Not because anything was funny, but because the only thing occupying his addled mind was a movie quote:

"_Get busy living or get busy dying." _

Dean would have appreciated that.

He slipped from the bed to his knees and started praying.

**Last Hope**

"This never gets old," Dean said, as he tossed some popcorn into his mouth. "Gotta love Carrie Fisher, no bra, and Danishes."

"You _would_ notice that," Sam said sipping from a bottle of Coke. "There's more to Star Wars than Leia's white dress."

"I know!" his brother exclaimed. "Artoo, right. I love that droid.

Sam shook his head and kept watching.

"Don't worry, Sammy. Your man crush Antilles is…well you're gonna have to wait a while."

Sam took the bait. "Don't know Wedge, Dean. He survived two Death Stars and the Battle of Hoth."

Dean waived a dismissive hand. "So did a lot of other guys. Did Wedge kiss his brother? Leia did."

"Wedge ended up marrying a hot blonde," Sam countered.

Dean threw popcorn at him. "If I've told you once I've told you a thousand times, if it's not on film, it never happened."


	4. Chapter 4

**Gone Huntin': Winchester drabbles**

**Author Note: Another site was offering an iPod shuffle challenge and I don't have an iPod. Instead, I decided to list the first five songs I heard on my local Classic Rock station. Enjoy the themes and if you see something you like, please leave a review. **

**Dancing in the Moonlight **

It was a warm Fall night in Lawrence, Kansas; the kind of night that brought families out into the yard to catch the last breath of Summer. John Winchester held his son, Sam, tightly in his arms as he sat in a chair on their small patio. He talked to the baby, all the while making silly faces, hoping for the satisfaction a smile would bring.

Dusk leaned toward night, but John could clearly see his wife and other son, Dean, dancing in back yard. Mother and son held each other's arms and leaned slightly away as they laughed, spinning carelessly in a circle. It was idyllic; what family was supposed to be.

No one noticed the pair of glowing yellow eyes staring at them through the laundry room window.

**Blinded by the Light **

The cemetery was like many they had visited as children; run down and virtually abandoned. There were no fresh flowers on any graves and the grass grew untamed.

Sam heard a noise in the trees and turned his light in its direction.

"Would you mind pointing that thing somewhere else," said Dean, raising a hand to block his eyes from the direct beam of a Maglite.

"Oh!" replied Sam, apologetically; turning the flashlight to the ground. "Yeah. Sorry."

"I realize you're a little out of practice, but come on," Dean said.

"Give it a rest, Dean," Sam sighed wearily. "Let's just get this done."

"Seein' as how you're so eager, I'm happy to give you first dibs." Dean tossed the shovel to his brother, folded his arms, and planted himself on the headstone.

**Rambling man**

On most days, Dean didn't mind the motels, the bars, and the one night hook ups. On most days, his life was an adolescent fantasy. He killed monsters, saved lives, and got the girl. But most days weren't today. He was tired. Not just in his bones, but in his soul. Today, he hadn't been able to save the innocents. Today, people died. Kids died.

Sitting in the end of a soft motel bed, he stared at red shag carpet.

"I want to go home," he said.

"I can't argue with that," Sam replied wearily. "Bobby's would be the perfect place to recuperate."

Dean shook his head. "Not Bobby's. Home."

Sam raised his eyes in surprise, but had no energy to challenge the logic of the comment.

"Okay," Sam replied flatly.

"'Okay'. That's all you got? Aren't you going to ask me why?"

"I think it's obvious," Sam said. "I'm just not sure what you expect to find."

"Let's just say I'm going to my happy place. Literally."

**Fame **

When Chuck called and invited them to another 'Supernatural' event, the Winchesters politely declined. Given how the last one turned out, staying away only made sense.

"_Come on, Guys," Chuck pleaded. "This one is supposed to be twice as big. We actually have a sponsor."_

"This is supposed to encourage us?" Dean quipped.

"It was creepy enough the last time," Sam added. "I'm not just referring to homicidal ghost kids."

"On second thought, how did you get a sponsor?" Dean asked. "Having people die at your little show would be a pretty strong deterrent don't you think?"

"_True," the prophet replied, conceding the point. "But, the sponsor is a private citizen. An anonymous benefactor if you will. He wasn't concerned with the unfortunate business at the last convention." _

"Are you kidding me?" Dean barked in disbelief. "Who is the guy?"

"_I said he was anonymous," Chuck answered, nervously. "What's the problem?"_

"It sounds like a set up, Chuck," Sam said. "Did this guy ask you to invite us?"

"_No," Chuck declared. "Forget about him. I have an offer you won't be able to refuse."_

"Give it your best shot, Bathrobe Boy," Dean jabbed.

"_The Ghostfacers have already signed on." _

**Down on the Corner, Out in the Street**

Dean stared wide-eyed at the shot gun blast just t imbedded in the car door next to him. Taking advantage of the close quarters miss, he charged the Hunter, who, only an hour ago, had been his ally. With a forceful sweep of his arm, he knocked the gun to side, following through with a crushing kick to the family jewels. When his attacker doubled over in pain, Dean shoved a knee into the man's nose. Blood sprayed on his jeans even as he turned back toward Sam lying semiconscious against the car.

"Can you walk?" Dean urged as he shook his brother by the shoulders. "We gotta go!"

"I…think so," Sam moaned, pulling his legs slowly toward him to stand. "Where's the…car?"

"Down the block," Dean said, pulling his brother to his feet. "Thankfully, on the same side of the street. We just need to dodge bullets, knives, and arrows long enough to get there."

"I guess I'm just too big a target," Sam said, pressing his blood soaked fingers against the wound in his side.


End file.
